Well, hello, there, and welcome back to my story! 😊
The beginning of this episode found Entrapta, Wink, and Darla making a desperate escape from the Tree Moon! ( Part One )
And this week, I am finally making good on a promise to a wonderful friend and member of our amazing wiki staff!
This chapter is dedicated to Kit ( @ArchduchessKittycat ), whom I promised a special chapter about . . . 3 1/2 months ago!! 😂 Sorry 'bout the wait!
But, here, finally, is the chapter that I promised for you!
It's a beautiful day in the Peace Zone, and two princesses and their people are there for each other.
Enjoy!
Sunlight angles downward, spilling golden light across a wide, level field clothed in green grass, scattered patches of wildflowers, and rich, reddish-brown dirt. Dozens of figures work industriously together, moving with careful attention to their tasks as their princesses oversee their progress with nurturing concern.
Perfuma is beaming, her expression a mixture of excitement and prideful joy, seeming to embrace the entire universe as her object of affection!
She stands with her hands held close to her chest, her fingers folded tightly together. Her positive energy pours through as she bobs up and down on her toes.
Turning her head, she casts her sunshine glow upward, to Scorpia, who stands beside her, pincers on hips, eyes wide with pleased wonder.
Perfuma: [bubbling with enthusiasm] Look at it, Scorpia! It’s all starting to happen!
Scorpia nods slowly.
Scorpia: Yep. [she grins] This really looks good.
Standing with her friend near the descent into the mammoth city-forest of her homeland, Scorpia stares in the opposite direction, across the plains.
In the middle distance, more than a hundred of her kindred soldiers work alongside members of Perfuma’s kingdom in trios and quartets.
They are working the ground using make-shift tools, chipping at it with axes, scoring it deeply with long broken rods, and digging in it with portable field shovels.
Already, they have created dozens of long, precise rows of churned and furrowed earth. A few of the teams have now begun to make their ways along the rows, digging and planting the small ovular shapes, one by one.
Scorpia squints with interest at a nearby soldier in unarmored fatigues who is squatting beside one of the rows. The soldier is flanked on one side by a curious partially-armored fellow soldier, on the other by a gentle Plumerian with long, braided brown-red hair, bare midriff and a flowing cream-colored skirt. For a moment, the squatting soldier looks to the Plumerian, who nods their head with an encouraging grin. Then, she hesitantly reaches out her fist and opens it, dropping a shining seed into a small pit in the ground. She quickly covers it with a double handful of dirt, presses down on the mound a couple of times, and then, after a moment’s pause, makes a strangely intentional one-handed rotational gesture over the spot. Her companions clap their hands together in applause, causing the soldier to look up and smile at them with unhidden sheepish delight.
Scorpia: [frowning] Hmm.
She lifts her claw and stares at it intently, opening and closing the pincer. Then she turns it in a slow, awkward circle.
Scorpia: It’s that last part I still haven’t quite figured out. That waving thing?
Perfuma turns to her, frowning and biting her lip.
Perfuma: Ummm. Actually, that’s just--
Scorpia: [continuing her thought as she points her claw downward, shaking it back and forth] It’s a wrist thing, isn’t it?
Perfuma looks decidedly uncomfortable.
Perfuma: Errr. I mean, . . . no . . . It’s really not--
Scorpia begins twisting her claw around, wiggling the pincers and watching the effect.
Scorpia: [contemplating as she observes her own motions] I know it’s important. Only. I’ve just never been very good at, um, . . . fine . . . motor . . .
As she leans down to get a closer look at her whirling pincer, she suddenly whacks herself in the eye.
Scorpia: Whoops! [chuckling] Heh-heh. Ow. Uh, yeah, . . . fine motor coordination. [she smiles, upbeat] Not one of my strong points!
Perfuma places both hands on Scorpia’s huge claw, gently stopping its motion.
Perfuma: Scorpia.
Scorpia: [to Perfuma, brightly confident] Oh, I’ll get it!
Scorpia starts waving her other claw, concentrating on the action.
Scorpia: I think it’s like a flick. Like [she tries the motion] . . . flick. It’s kind-of-a [she tries it a couple more times] . . . flick. Fllll-ick!
Perfuma: [with frustration] Scorpia, please!
Scorpia pauses and turns toward her with a look of surprised concern. She sees Perfuma looking up at her with tears in her eyes.
Perfuma: [with sadness, but more calmly] Just . . . stop.
Scorpia drops her free claw, turns toward Perfuma, and gently takes Perfuma’s hands in her claws.
Scorpia: [softly] Are you okay?
Perfuma closes her eyes tightly and shakes her head a couple of times. When she opens her eyes again, she is more composed, but a couple of tears emerge to slide down her cheeks.
Perfuma: I thought I was. [mournfully] I’ve tried to be . . . accepting, but . . . I’m having a hard time letting go.
Scorpia frowns sympathetically.
Perfuma: [smiling at Scorpia] The universe has given so much to me. And . . . I’ve always tried to give back. Whenever I can.
Perfuma casts her eyes downward, to the soil.
Perfuma: In Plumeria, when we plant new seeds . . . at the beginning of new life, . . . I’ve always . . . used my magic to give them a good start in the world. To give . . . some of my energy . . . back to them.
Perfuma raises her eyes to meet those of Scorpia, eyes full of understanding.
Perfuma: [with a small sob] So, . . . when I taught your people, . . . without even thinking about it, . . . I . . .
Scorpia: [nodding] You mean, that gesture was . . .
Perfuma nods, sadly.
Perfuma: My magic. My gift to the earth. But it’s gone. [looking down at her hands, her voice catches] It’s just . . . just an empty gesture now.
Scorpia tilts her head, frowning with sympathy. She lifts her claws to rest them on Perfuma’s shoulders.
Scorpia: [warmly] Oh, Perfuma.
Perfuma takes a step forward, wrapping her arms around Scorpia and pressing her head against her shoulder. And in the most natural and gentle of motions, Scorpia enfolds Perfuma in her arms.
Scorpia: [closing her eyes, feeling the moment] Yeah. That’s it. I’ve got you.
They hold each other tightly for a few moments. Then Scorpia opens her eyes and slowly relaxes her grip. Perfuma opens her eyes as Scorpia gestures outward in a wide sweep of her claw.
Scorpia: [sincerely] But, hey. Just look at all of this!
Perfuma looks at the scene before them, her eyes searching after what Scorpia sees.
Scorpia: [with gentle certainty] This is your magic. All of it.
Perfuma’s smile slowly grows, her eyes brightening, signs of the deepening joy inside her, as she sees the field and the people within it as if for the first time.
She sees her people and members of the Horde standing with wonder at what they have accomplished together and the promise of new life to come.
She sees them touch shoulders, laughing, embracing.
She sees them sitting on the ground, talking, smiling, sharing stories, as the Plumerians recount with jubilant gestures and dancing eyes the miracle of growth and the transformation of seeds into lush groves and abundant food.
And she sees soldiers hardened and weary from a past lifetime of battle breathing deeply in the fresh open air and delighting at the invigoration that comes from touching the earth and partaking in peaceful shared moments of friendship.
Perfuma turns back toward Scorpia with sparkling eyes.
Perfuma: [slowly] Scorpia, . . . it’s . . . Thank you.
Scorpia smiles at her. Then, suddenly, Perfuma’s attention is pulled away from Scorpia’s face, as she glances somewhere upward and far away. Her smile disappears, and her eyes widen slightly, her expression strangely unreadable, focused and calm.
Scorpia watches perplexed as Perfuma lowers her head slowly, closes her eyes, and breathes in deeply, letting her lungs empty slowly.
For a moment, Scorpia stares at her uncomfortably. She begins to fidget, tapping her claws together, frowning.
Scorpia: [mildly concerned] Sooooo. Are you okay? Uh . . . [with sudden insight] Oh! Do you need something? [practically] Ahhh, like . . . like a glass of water? Or, or . . . or a warm towel?
Perfuma grins, her eyes remaining closed.
Perfuma: [gently] It’s fine, Scorpia. We’re just reflecting. And being grateful.
Scorpia raises an eyebrow in wonder.
Scorpia: We are??
She looks around to see the other people in the field.
Each of Scorpia’s companions from the former Horde is watching the Plumerians nearest them with an expression of confusion and bafflement.
All of Perfuma’s people, together and all at once, have halted and fallen strangely silent. Wherever they may be standing or sitting amongst the others, they are slightly apart, an attitude of prayerful contemplation in their closed eyes and open palms, and with the barest touch of a grin on each of their serene faces.
Scorpia glances back at Perfuma, then down at her own claws.
Scorpia: Oh. Right. Reflecting. Grateful. Okay.
She squeezes her eyes closed, takes a deep breath, and spreads her claws in an evident attempt to mimic Perfuma.
Perfuma: Scorpia?
Scorpia opens one eye to see Perfuma smiling and pointing upward over Scorpia’s shoulder.
Perfuma: Look.
Scorpia opens her other eye and lets Perfuma turn her around, where high overhead she sees a massive distant object drifting calmly above them in a majestic arc across the sky.
Perfuma: It’s the Tree Moon. It used to be Horde Prime’s ship. But the She-Ra transformed it with her love.
Scorpia gapes at the chaotic wild beauty of the enormous floating, gloriously sprawling tree. Its roots and branches bear innumerable billions of leaves layered in luxurious swathes. It processes peacefully in breathtaking stately elegance.
Perfuma: Ever since the end of the war, whenever the Tree Moon crosses the sky overhead, my people keep silent remembrance. For those who sacrificed. To bring peace to Etheria.
Scorpia stands watching in silent wonder with Perfuma, as the Tree Moon continues its endless, patient journey.
She reaches her arm around Perfuma, laying a gentle claw on her shoulder.
Perfuma lays her hand warmly upon the claw of her friend.
And all across the field, the people watch. And remember.
